The Broken Eye
Page 209

Kip saw the moment yawn open. One more touch, his Guile mind said, and these men will flee.
But he was holding the green shield and he couldn’t—
Ferkudi heaved Ben-hadad into the lift, and Teia—visible now—jumped in a moment after. Cruxer threw the lever.
The lift shot up. It hit the first stop, throwing them all into the air, and ground to a stop. It fell back to the ground.
There were shouts of alarm, pain, injury, weakness, and rage going up from the Lightguards. Kip stood up, dropping the green shield, as Cruxer wrestled to put on more counterweights.
A man was rushing them. Kip drafted a green spike and stabbed him in the face. The Lightguard fell into him, still alive, still fighting. Kip elbowed him across the nose, and he went down. Saw another man rushing them, a blunderbuss in one hand.
Kip shot another green spike but missed as the man slipped on a pool of blood.
The man slid almost into their feet. He didn’t try to stand; instead, he grabbed for the blunderbuss. At this range, he might take out half the squad.
Winsen was on him with a knife in an instant.
The knife went in and out and in and out of the man’s belly, like a tailor rapidly drawing a stitch.
In and out and in and out and in and out and in and out, Winsen wasn’t stopping, and it was cold and it was hot and it was bloody and wet and slick and dirty and gruesome and necessary. The man was still fighting, drawing the end of his blunderbuss down to point at Winsen’s face.
Ferkudi leapt onto the pile and pointed the barrel out toward more charging Lightguards. Winsen yanked the trigger and the blunderbuss fired, and the Lightguards were peppered with whatever had been in the barrel, but were too far away to be killed.
With his one good hand, Big Leo hauled the man off the pile and threw him off the lift. But another Lightguard was already coming, face bloodied but not stopping. Kip shot a hammerfist of green and blew a shower of teeth and blood across himself. The Lightguard fell across the gap, halfway between being in the lift and not in it as Cruxer threw the lever again.
They flew upward, and the Lightguard flew up with them into the lift shaft. He screamed as his body blocked the lift’s ascent, pinched between the floor of the lift and the sides of the lift shaft.
But he only screamed for a moment, as muscle and bone and mail tore. Half a man was left as they flew skyward, and then as they rammed through the one-way doors at each level, and the body got trapped and scraped off at each successive level, less and less. Half, a third, a head and an arm, a helmet with a head in it, and then nothing at all—of what had been a man, ten seconds ago.
Kip fell backward onto his ass, staring horrified, as a man disappeared into the maw of war.
They clanged through level after level. With how much counterweight Cruxer had set, they never paused long. Several times, they saw astounded guards, who never so much as fired their muskets.
And then the squad hit the top level.
None of them had reloaded on the trip up. Inexperience, or trauma, or plain horror overwhelming their training. Kip hadn’t drawn in any more luxin.
There was no Lightguard checkpoint, and the Blackguards recognized them and came running. Cruxer kept his cool, and it was a blessing from Orholam himself, because out of the others, only Winsen kept his, too. Together, they pulled everyone off the lift.
“Lightguards,” Cruxer said to the Blackguards stationed there. “They’re after us. You can’t fight them or you’ll start a war. But please, please, help.”
“Oh, shit!” Kip said. “Where’s Teia?”
She spoke behind him. “I’m right here. Cruxer waited for me to get in the lift.”
The Blackguards on duty were baffled. The woman, Nerra, went immediately to Ben-hadad, though, and started examining his leg.
“What are you talking about?” Little Piper asked. “What’s happening? We’ve seen the wall crystals going crazy, but they aren’t any of our codes, and we couldn’t leave our posts. The commander hasn’t answered any of our queries.”
“Commander Ironfist’s been kicked out of the Blackguard,” Kip said. It occurred to him that he should lie, that lying would make it easier to get these two on their side.
“Orholam, Ben-hadad, what have they done to you?” Nerra said. “Who’s behind this?”
“My grandfather,” Kip said. “He set the Lightguard after us, and he’s the one who relieved Ironfist of his position.”
“What? What?!” Little Piper demanded. He wasn’t a tall man, but he was wide, with a shaved head and intense brown eyes under half-halos of yellow and orange.
“The commander agreed to go quietly. He didn’t want to cause war between the Blackguard and the Lightguard. Said the promachos would take the excuse to eliminate the Blackguard altogether.”
“To hell with that!” Little Piper said. “I’ll, I’ll—”
“Shut up,” Nerra said. “We’ll delay them, young ones. What are you doing?”
“We need to go to the White’s room. Can we?” Kip asked.
They could stop them.
The two Blackguards looked at each other. Some silent understanding went between them. They were in love, Kip saw, some intuitive part of him seeing it from how they understood each other.
“I’m sure I don’t need to say this, but I need to say this,” Little Piper said. “The White’s in there still. She’s dead. You won’t disturb her.”
“Of course,” Cruxer said. “Is Ben-hadad fit to travel? Ben, do you still want to come with us?”
“He’ll never fight again,” Nerra said. She looked at Ben-hadad. “The leg’s ruined. Sorry to say it, but it’s true.”
Ben-hadad shrank. “Can I come? Please?” He turned to Cruxer. “I don’t want to … I can’t be left behind. I’m no Daelos, you understand? This squad is everything to me.”
Nerra nodded, and so did Cruxer, who said, “I’ll carry you if I have to.”
“We’ll buy you as much time as we can without a clash of arms,” Nerra said. “Go, and Orholam shield you.”
They ran down the hall and up the stairs and went past the two Blackguards who stood silent at the White’s door. Kip recognized Gill Greyling, but each Blackguard pretended not to see them.
Kip went out to the balcony. It was still early morning. Orholam’s beard, how was it still early morning? It felt like a thousand years since dawn.
He rummaged through his pack, looking for the card he’d tucked away not half an hour ago. He glanced at the White’s bed, where her corpse lay. He kissed thumb and two fingers and flung a quick blessing at her.
He found the card in his breast pocket. It had been preserved between plates of glass. Kip had nicely broken those in his tumble down the stairs, but the card was undamaged. He drew it out and, while rapidly switching between spectacles and sheathing each as he was done with it in order to draw in all seven colors at once, said, “I have no idea how long this will take me. Just … just defend me. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“We’ll hold,” Ferkudi said, and he spoke for them all.
Kip felt, in that moment, an overwhelming love for these people.
He wouldn’t fail them.